The Dickinson press., 1887-10-01
WEBSTER'S DEATH.
HOW THE SAD NEWS WAS FIRST
BROUGHT FROM MARSHFIELD.

6EOUG1l FROM MARS7FIElD.
Eben Gains Wonderful Ride One Sun
day Morning in 1s5:-A Little
Sprained Mare Carries the Dispatch
Bearer Ahead of Everything Else.
Well over on Fort Hill street, i'll West
bingham, lives Eben Wheeler Cain. He is
the man who first carried the news of the
death of Daniel Webster to Boston. He rode
from Marshiiell on the morning of Sunday,
Oct. "a. lsja, i'll the time intervening between
$50 and by the Old South clock. His was
the credit that The Gazette was able to print
the last words of the dying statesman three
hours before the other paper could. Eben
Cam is full of wit, too, rs we'll Us remi-
niscencc. as many al old expressrnan can
testify. In fuckers "Way Bills this story
is told of him:
Ono morning which succeeded Il night Of
hilarity-thc occasion being tho annual ex-
preSs'nrn's sleigh ridc-he was accosted by
fellow driver with: "Cain, were YOU the man
that slew Abel.'
No." says Eben, II was the man that was
slewcd."
Ehem Cain is G1 now. He stopped driving
for Adams half a dozen years ago, but lie
seems just rs vigorous as lie ever did. He
farms it Il little around his house, that stands
liz back from the road, and takes good care
of his good wife l was asking him the other
day about his ride from Malshlirll.
"Well," the tall, brown armed. gray
whiskered man said, 81 went down twice,
you know. Jack Clapp we used to call
him-yes, Col. Clapp, of The Journal, of Tho
Gazette then-lives down here Oh Jerusalem
rond s,lnmers-he got me to so. Webster
died of n Sunday morning. We went down
first Saturday. George Blanchard, tho agent
of the Associated Press, straight Teller with
white specs, wanted me togo. John Bradley,
then of The Times, and since dead in Caifor-
MIA, went with me for company. We went
over to Jim Mullam's stable and got four
wheel trotting gig; we wanted to get back by
IL, in time to telegraph to New York-anl-
well, we shifted hosses at George Frcncl's, in
Quincy, Wash French's father. and again at
John Prouty's in Scituate. 1t was thirty-six
miles to Marshtield over the Queen Anne
turnpike, through Pembroke.
THE LITTLE WHITE MARE.
'Wo got his con,liton-no change" the
messenger continued "and come home.
Bradley stopped to chat at Frcnchs, and there
was n fellow named IIuntress who wanted to
make n dollar. He hltched upa racker to
get our news to Boston ahead of us. But on
the old bridge--Federal street, now-wc over
took him. The draw was up and lie had to
wait. and tell you we ratified into town to-
gether a-spanking.
"Well, | went about my regular work for
Harnden-one team used to do all his work
then-when i'll comes Clapp and asks mo if
there is u man there by tho name of Cain,
and wants to know if will so to Marshtiell
Tor him, same as | did for tho Associated
Press. | says yes, if the boss is willing; he
says yes, if want to go. SO went over to
Josh Stuarts stable, OH School street this
time, where the Parker house is now. He
said he had good roader for me, and took
him and ali open buggy. We'll, goes down
and gets as far rs French's, and lie says:
'Eben, I've got spawned nag here that will
go like thunder but you won't know it when
she's gone forty rod. and you'd better take
her. John Prouty he had n little white mare
for me, and says he: If you give her the
rein on the way home she'll fetch you right
here to tho door, So took her and got there
and some of the servants put up my hoss in
the stable-the servants swarmcl around
there like becs-and l went into IA private IL
brary there was there to one side, where there
were fifteen or twenty Of them sitting hy tho
freplace-one of those where you can burn
logs four feet long. There was Peter IIar-
vey, Webster's particular friend, and j. w.
Page, think, the dry goods man on Frank
lin street, and some more; and pretty soon
down comes Mr. Marsh, of The Bee. Mr.
Gill, of The Gazette, had been down and gone
away at 12, and was to wait till Webster
died. They invited Marsh into'the house,
and some one says to me-I told 'cm was
| fro,,, Mr.. mt I,oI hotto,
rest-I had been up two nights, you know,
and just rode scventy-two miles-so laid
down OH n lounge. Great fellow to run cx-
press and 80 to sleep, ch!'
"What time was that?" asked.
"That was early Sunday morning." tho old
expresslnan said. "Well, was going to
tell you. II WANT two minutes, seems SO,
before woke up and heard Mr. Marsh's man
say: Il want my horse quick as you can; Mr..
Webster's dead'"
NOBODY AHEAD.
"What did You do theny'
"Well, l knew that if that was MIR. Marsh's
business it was what was down there for,
too; so 1 jumps up There were thirty or
forty horses in tho stable--Mr. Webster had
twenty odd, should tbnk-but dove right
for the white one; md all wanted was tho
| IiSU WORDS dlt llIIlc Vi ueuLu. DIT. ClnDJb
wanted that to print that morning in his
paper before the people went to church: see!
Well, Mr.. Page comes out and says to ne to
80 ill., There was Mr.. Curtis. Mr.. Websters
private ccrctary-I shall never forget linn, lie
wrote with u goose quill, and heard 'em
whisper and ask: Wasn't that man down last
night SO they asked me if hadn't better
take something. Id heard tell of Mr.. Webster's
brandy, so took about three fingers, and
tell you it went TO the right spot And Curtis
he wrote about two sheets with the last words
and time of lcatlI in, and started.
"The little white mare did go, just US John
said she would and the SPAWN went on Just
as George said. asked Prouts if there had
been any one along, and he said no; SO /
knew there was nobody ahead of me. French
wanted to know what the news was l
wasn't going to get caught again, SO says:
Il dunno; mine are sealed ortlers' WE'LL lie
couldn't find the key of the stable door for
some time, but finally the team was ready.
Igets in, and l says to George, Webster died
at twenty minutes past s. and then puts
the whip on.
~ was twenty-five minutes going the eight
miles from there into Boston to No = State
street. 1t frightened the milkmen half to
death TO sec me goso. 1t was just strikingG
by the Old South when got there. We'll,
there wcre tho typcstickers all ready by their
boxes to put in the figures where it told when
he died. Mr.. Clapp was white with excite
ment. Iput the hoss up. told Mr.. Clapp all
about the trip, had some breakfast, and by
that time we got the papers with it all i'll it.
Pretty soon Mr.. Sprague, of Harndens, came
over, and about o'clock updrvcs Mr.. Marsh
to Tho Bee office with his bobtail and the
news. But the boys were all through crying
Gazette on the streets by that time.''
"a good beat" 1 couldn't help crying; II
1 great l,eat."-Boston Globe.
Something About the Bicycle.
| ''Nou might think that ONLY Tho. legs wo,]d